


The colour of snow

by Ischa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Captivity, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I think I can call this a modern vampire story. In which Harry is severely injured and Draco a Ministry experiment/captive. </p><p>  <i>“They’re using Imperius on you!” </i><br/><i>“You sound so shocked, Potter. It’s rather cute.”</i><br/><i>“But it’s forbidden!”</i><br/><i>“It seems they make exceptions if you are a vampire, a former Death Eater, or if the Ministry thinks the ends justify the means. Lucky me, all three factors apply.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The colour of snow

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to my betas marianna_merlo and bryoneybrynn who both made this story a million times better than it would have been without their help. 
> 
> This was first written for the h/d fanfair.

~+~  
_Now_  
Harry woke up with a start and muttered a Silencio before it registered that his alarm hadn’t gone off. He still felt a bit groggy, but he was glad he was home again where he belonged. St Mungos gave him the creeps these days and he couldn’t figure out why. Maybe because he had spent too much time there since becoming an Auror. Harry had no illusions that he was messed up and craved the danger, the thrill of the really bad guys. Unfortunately, that meant becoming only too familiar with the inside of hospital rooms.  
He patted his chest where a long scar was. It was a new one. He had an ever growing collection by now. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t recall it clearly. The last mission was a really close call, he knew. He should have been dead. He had no idea how he’d even made it back or to the hospital.  
He looked at the clock and then out the window.  
It was snowing again. The scar started to throb. He rubbed it absentmindedly. It did that a lot. A bit like a heartbeat that wasn’t his. It was unnerving but strangely comforting, too. 

~+~  
_Six months ago_  
Harry woke slowly to something cool and wet sweeping over his chest and neck. He was feeling groggy and the last thing he remembered were the werewolves ready and willing to tear him to shreds. There hadn’t been anyone to help him. They had been separated. And it had been his own fault.  
Now, though, he didn’t feel torn to shreds. In fact, he felt pleasantly light-headed. Someone must have found him after all, must have gotten him to the hospital in time. Even if it didn’t smell like a hospital at all. 

“Ah, back with the living again,” a voice said. 

Harry hadn’t heard that voice in years. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand pushed him down again.  
“Malfoy?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Malfoy said. 

“I thought you were dead. The papers reported you dead three years ago.” He tried to sit up again. Malfoy didn’t let him. Harry had to be weaker than he thought, if he couldn’t handle Malfoy.  
Malfoy leaned over him so Harry could see his face. It was still handsome, paler than Harry remembered, and his eyes seemed to glow. It was…unnerving, and yet he felt aroused for some reason. Malfoy smirked, bent down, and licked over his neck. The arousal spiked and Harry groaned. 

Malfoy stood up, looking down at him. “I bet they did. The Ministry wants to keep it that way. After all, it suits their purposes.” The last part was an angry sneer. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

“Sleep now, Potter,” Malfoy said, and Harry did. 

~+~  
The next time he woke, it was to something soft and wet touching him, and he felt that same vague arousal deep in his belly. He opened his eyes. The room was dark and nondescript. He tried to sit up but, as before, a hand pressed him down and Malfoy hissed he should lie still for Merlin’s sake. Harry did until Malfoy stepped back. 

“Were you licking me?” Harry asked between shocked and angry. 

Malfoy gave him a look. “Yes.”

“What the bloody hell is going on?” He wasn’t feeling as tired anymore, but still groggy and aroused. 

“You were severely injured, Potter. You nearly died, and were sent here. So I could fix you up.” 

“You aren’t a Healer,” Harry said. 

“No,” Malfoy replied, showing his fangs. 

The first impulse was to back away, but he reeled it in. Malfoy hadn’t harmed him when he could have. “What the hell?” he asked again. He refused to let the shock set in. He needed to keep a clear head. 

“The Ministry always suspected that a vampire’s saliva had healing abilities. It can bring people back from the brink of death, it seems. It takes time, though. Takes a lot out of the vampire, too.”

“You have never seemed like someone to be kind to random strangers,” Harry said. 

Draco smiled. “I’m not. I can’t leave. If I could, I would tear their lying throats out and feast on their guts,” he hissed. 

A chill ran down Harry’s spine. Malfoy was feral and predatory and he was caged…but how? “Malfoy-“

“You should sleep, Potter,” Malfoy said.  
And Harry lay down and did. 

~+~  
“Don’t do that!” Harry hissed as he woke up. He realized that Malfoy had compelled him to sleep again and he was starting to get really annoyed by it. 

Malfoy’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Fine! Of course you would be difficult about this. Sleep helps you heal faster.” 

Harry’s mind was racing. He knew he didn’t have his wand. Draco had told him it had been taken away and that he would get it back once he was in the outside world. And that he would have forgotten by then that he had ever been here, that he had seen and spoken to Draco Malfoy, who should be dead by all means and wasn’t.  
“How long?”

“Are they keeping me here?” Malfoy asked. “What year is it?” Harry told him. “Well, seven years then. Seems longer to be honest,” Malfoy replied.

Seven years, Harry thought. It was true that Malfoy had been reported missing roughly two years before he had been declared dead. No one, except Pansy had questioned it back then. Maybe they should have. This wasn’t right. “I’m going to get you out of here,” Harry said. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but Weasley already said that and that was…some time ago.”

“Ron has been here?”

“Yes, he had also been injured severely on duty, and I saved his life. Funny, isn’t it? No one will ever know. But he thanked me before they took him away.” Draco shrugged. It looked graceful, like everything he did. 

Harry remembered that Ron had gone missing for over three weeks and that he had been found rather mysteriously and brought to St Mungos. He had recovered rather well. 

“What is this place?” He muttered. 

“Secret Healing facility. They say they do it for the greater good, but I am not so sure. After all, they select the people who come here. Really, it can’t be helped, because a vampire can only heal one person over the course of several weeks.” He looked at Harry then and he looked tired and weary. “Sleep now, Potter,” he said gently. 

Harry cursed before he closed his eyes. 

~+~  
“I told you not to do that!” Harry said rubbing his neck. He hated it that Malfoy could just make him fall asleep like that whenever he wanted.

“It’s easier when the people they send me don’t talk,” Malfoy said. “I’m tired of false hope.” 

Harry sighed. He was feeling stronger. “Hey, so why don’t you just tear your charges apart and make a break for it?” 

Draco smiled. It was that half charming, half predatory smile that sent a not entirely unpleasant shiver down Harry’s spine. “I can’t.”

“Why not? Are they watching?” 

“No, but I’m under strict instructions not to harm my charges, not to drink any blood, not to attack the guards-“

“They’re using Imperius on you!” 

“You sound so shocked, Potter. It’s rather cute.” 

“But it’s forbidden!” 

“It seems they make exceptions if you are a vampire, a former Death Eater, or if the Ministry thinks the ends justify the means. Lucky me, all three factors apply.” 

Harry vowed again to help him. Malfoy only smiled at him like one would smile at a rather slow child. 

~+~  
“There is no way, no way I will leave you here to rot,” Harry said and bit back a moan as Draco started to work on his legs and inner thigh. There must have been something in the saliva, but…but Harry had always been kind of fascinated by Draco. There was no denying that. 

“There is no way you will remember, Potter.”

“But the Healers will figure it out when I get to St Mungoes. They’ll know I’ve been Obliviated. And you know I won’t stop until I figure out who Obliviated me and why.“ 

“No one will discover you’ve been Obliviated; they have Healers at St Mungos, Potter. Weasley didn’t come back,” Malfoy cut in and grazed his inner thigh with a fang. Harry shivered. 

“Fuck…”

“It’s okay. It happens. It’s the saliva. It makes you aroused and happy. And you’re getting an overdose, Potter.”

Harry reached out and put his hands on Draco's head, gently, ran his fingers through his hair. “Draco…” he said and even to his own ears it sounded needy and breathy. 

“Hmmm…you want something?” Draco purred. 

It went straight to Harry’s dick. It wasn’t only the saliva, Harry knew. It was Draco: his skin so pale and his lips so soft and his eyes. Harry loved his eyes. “Draco.”

“Say it and I may just grant your wish,” Draco replied. 

Harry wondered if Draco had made Ron beg for it, too, but only briefly. It didn’t matter. Ron didn’t know. “Please suck me,” he whispered, and Draco did. He drew it out, was careful with his fangs, and Harry was in pure ecstasy. He couldn’t help the moans slipping from his mouth or the way Draco’s name sounded so desperate on his lips as he came.  
He grabbed Draco by the hair and pulled him in as soon as he caught his breath. He kissed Draco. Devoured his mouth, really, and Draco let him. He seemed starved for it. Ground down as he made himself at home in Harry’s lap. Harry stroked him off hard and fast, because he couldn’t wait to see Draco lose it, to see him come. Draco bit his lip until it bled, sluggishly and deep red. Harry leaned over on instinct and licked it away. Draco’s breath hitched. 

“Harry,” he said. 

~+~  
_Now_  
The snow made a soft noise under his boots, a bit like a sigh. Harry turned around, but there was no one close. He still felt like someone was watching him.  
He rubbed the scar again.  
Why was the shape so freaking familiar?  
He shook his head. He was still on leave from work, so he should enjoy the sunny winter day. He should get Teddy and do something with him. Maybe go down to one of the bookshops Teddy liked to hang out in and that bored Harry to death.  
Yes, he thought, and then he would take Teddy for a hot chocolate and a snowball fight. 

~+~  
Gilroy Lockhart's 'Voyages with Vampires' wasn’t a book he would usually choose to leaf through, but something about it caught his eye, and as Teddy was still roaming the shelves, Harry sat down and read a paragraph here or there. It wasn't half bad, but that was probably because Lockhart hadn't really lived or written it. 

“Uncle Harry!” Teddy said, tugging on his robes. 

Harry looked at him. He had been, despite himself, captivated by the book. “You done?” 

“Yes!” 

“How many of these do you want to take home?” Harry asked. 

Teddy’s cheeks went pink. “All of them…?” 

Harry nodded. Books weren’t candy, so he figured he could indulge Teddy, and he had the money. 

Teddy beamed at him. “Thank you!” 

“You are welcome.” 

~+~  
_Six months ago_  
Sex wasn’t something new to Harry, but sex with Draco was nevertheless a revelation. They were so in tune and Harry didn’t know what it was. The situation they were in, or the hunger building in Draco for years, or the fact that Harry was falling for Draco hard and fast. And hopelessly.  
Draco liked to be bitten, but Harry never could make it hard enough to draw blood. Draco never bit him back. He only mouthed at Harry’s neck, his wrist, the insides of his thighs, his cock. Over his heart. Everywhere where the blood was rushing hard, fast and hot, and no doubt deliciously, under the surface of Harry’s skin.  
Harry loved it.  
Loved Draco’s hot mouth and chilly skin, his long fingers and the way Draco looked at him. Sometimes there was such a hunger behind Draco’s eyes that it should have scared the hell out of Harry, but it didn’t. It only turned him on more. 

~+~  
“Just stop!” Draco shouted. “Just stop! Because I don’t want to hear it. You will forget everything and I will remember forever!” 

Harry balled his hands into fists. This wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right! He needed to help Draco. He needed to know everything about this institution and what they did here, everything Draco knew, so Harry could remember and come back for him. He knew that he was running out of time as he was feeling stronger and getting better every day. He knew enough that he was afraid and pissed off. He didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want to forget a single second he had spent with Draco. He wanted Draco to be free. Even if this was only a means to pass the time for Draco, it didn’t matter. No one deserved to be held captive and be used like this.  
It went against everything Harry believed in and had fought for.  
“Draco-“

“No. I am sick of this. We can fuck and that is all. I am sick, you hear me. Sick.” 

And Harry was angry, but there was no way he could not touch Draco. No way at all, so he reached out and slammed their mouths together and tasted desperation and hunger on Draco’s tongue – but maybe it was his own. 

~+~  
Harry traced the pale blue veins under Draco’s skin with one finger gently. Draco turned his head to look at him over his shoulder. Harry really wanted to fuck him, but there was nothing they could use as lubrication and Harry wasn't going to use blood or only saliva. Vampire saliva could heal vampires, too, yes, but unfortunately only if it came from another vampire. Apparently, a vampire couldn’t use his own saliva to heal himself; it simply didn’t work. Nature was sometimes cruel like that. He let his fingers skip over the bones of Draco’s ribs and then his spine.

“Your body is like a landscape. A winter landscape,” Harry said, dipping his fingers into Draco’s cleft. 

Draco made a noise that was half moan and half laugh. “Didn’t know you were a poet deep, deep, deep down, Potter.”  
Harry leaned down and kissed Draco’s shoulder blade. Draco sighed. 

~+~  
_Now_  
“And did you know,” Teddy said, “that people in ancient times thought that vampires had healing powers?”

“Their saliva,” Harry said. 

“Yes,” Teddy nodded. “And they made vampires spit in their potions…urg.” 

Harry laughed, but something was at the back of his mind. The scar throbbed again. “It doesn’t work that way…” Harry replied absentmindedly. 

“The book says it doesn't work at all, Uncle Harry,” Teddy said. He sounded like it was the biggest tragedy ever. 

Harry wasn’t so sure. He rubbed the scar again. “It’s getting late, I should get you home.” 

“Okay,” Teddy said. “Can I take this back with me?” he asked, holding up the book about vampires. 

“Afraid not, I want to read it first. But I’ll bring it over as soon as I’m done,” Harry promised. 

“Okay,” Teddy replied and put the book on the table, reluctantly. 

~+~  
Harry stared at is scar in the mirror. It was long and pale and called up half-formed memories of another scar, a silvery slash on pale skin that he’d run his hands over, his mouth, his tongue. That he had kissed.

His scar ran up from his navel to his collarbone, and stopped there. The other should be longer, he thought. And older, and the skin around it should be paler. Nearly the colour of snow. He got a headache thinking about it.  
Maybe he was losing his mind after all.  
Maybe he should take that vacation Hermione was nagging him about. 

~+~  
_Six months ago_  
“Just do it,” Harry said. 

“I can’t. I can’t harm my charges,” Draco replied. 

“Do it when we fuck then. It won’t count as an attack when I beg for it.” 

“We don’t fuck because there is no lube and-“ 

Harry looked at him, steely determination in his voice and probably in his eyes too. “You will fuck me and then you will heal me.”

“I won’t!” 

“It’s the only way. I will remember, I know I will when I have a reminder. Made by you,” Harry said and he was pleading now. 

“No.” 

~+~  
Harry didn’t give up. They had mad sex, angry and desperate and exhausting and tender and he knew he was wearing Draco down by the way his eyes sometimes flashed and how he looked ready to rip Harry’s tongue out or his heart.  
On one occasion he gagged Harry with his dick. Harry glared at him, but sucked anyway. 

~+~  
“I love you,” Harry said. 

“Just don’t!” 

“I love you.” 

“Shut up!” 

“Draco. I lov-“ he didn’t finish the sentence because Draco was on him. Of all the things to make him break down, Harry hadn’t thought that this would be it.  
It was all heat and saliva and blood from that point on and Harry wasn’t going to lie about the pain he was in once Draco slid inside him, but he was also euphoric as hell, because _yes_ and _finally_ and as he had been rimmed thoroughly beforehand it didn’t even take that long for him to come, and that was when Draco did it, slit him open, he grit his teeth so he wouldn’t scream. 

~+~  
Alarms went off behind his eyes. He was dragged away from Draco, who was standing in a corner looking fierce and murderous and kind of lost. He was groggy for a second too long. 

“No!” he yelled. “No!”  
The hooded men didn’t listen to him. He was taken away into another room where he was sedated and checked out and given his wand back. 

~+~  
Harry woke up at St Mungos without knowing how he got there or where the aching scar on his chest had come from. 

~+~  
_Now_  
The more he tried to remember the weeks he had gone missing, the worse the headaches got.  
He knew it wasn’t a good sign. He should go to St Mungos and have himself checked out, but something held him back.  
And it was strange that he knew so much about vampires when he never in his life had read a book about them, but every time he turned a page of ‘Voyages with Vampires’ it was like a déjà vu. He just knew.  
Something about his recovery was fishy. He had thought that about Ron’s a few years back, too, but Hermione had been too relieved to see him well, as was the rest of his family, for Harry to investigate.  
After all, miracles weren’t meant to be questioned. 

~+~  
The dreams were hazy and short, but they left him aching and painfully aroused. He felt like clawing at his own skin. Like his blood was singing to him. He just needed to understand the words.  
Enough was enough, he decided on a crisp winter morning. He took the broom, because he liked to feel the wind against his face and because it was harder to track down than Floo powder.  
There was an old retired Healer he knew from one of his previous missions, now living a quiet life amongst Muggles in the country.  
That man had nothing to gain or lose by helping Harry.  
He landed and was greeted warmly and ushered in.  
He took the offered tea and biscuits before he explained why he was there. 

“Ah, well, well,” Magnus said. “Let me check your head first, then.”  
Harry nodded. He had a bad feeling about what it would be that Magnus would discover, but it was better to know than not to know in this case.  
“Weeks of your life have been stolen from you, Mister Potter,” Magnus said after an hour of checking him out. “But you hid some parts, that is why you have headaches every time you try to remember. Clever boy,” he added, and patted Harry’s cheek. 

“Thank you,” Harry said. 

“What for? I can’t bring them back.” 

“But I know now that something about my rescue and fast recovery was fishy.” 

“If I may see your wounds?” Magnus asked. 

Harry nodded and stripped. “I think - and I know it probably sounds crazy - it has been done with some vampire-saliva potion…” 

“Not a potion at all. If I have to guess - and I hate guessing - I would say it was a vampire who healed you. I’ve seen it once before the war.” Harry didn’t ask which one. All of them were horrible. “When vampires were more inclined to help humans. Less secretive. But really, who can blame them?” he added, handing Harry his robes. 

“That someone who stole my memories-“

“I would say these people knew what they were doing. And are not to be trifled with. You should be careful, Mister Potter.”

“I will be,” Harry promised. 

~+~  
Harry woke up to a brilliant winter morning. His scar ached, his body flushed with arousal, and the colour of snow reminded him of …

 

“Draco,” he whispered. 

His blood was rushing in his veins and suddenly he knew – not everything, but enough to know what he needed to do next.  
Draco was out there, and Harry would find him.


End file.
